


Cuffed

by CoffeeAndTae



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handcuffs, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 10:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6514573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndTae/pseuds/CoffeeAndTae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yomo and his girlfriend (you) decide to get a little tipsy to loosen up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cuffed

**Author's Note:**

> EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL THIS IS ALL ONE HUNDRED PERCENT CONSENSUAL there is no piss drunk sex, they are only buzzed and completely okay. CONSENT IS REQUIRED. DO NOT TOUCH SOMEONE IF THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO. THANKs.

Sex with Yomo, amazing as it is, tends to veer on the vanilla side. Though you find nothing wrong with intimacy between the two of you, there are things you’d like to try – things you aren’t certain if you can run by Yomo or not. In hindsight, bringing out the alcohol to maintain confidence probably wasn’t the best idea, but as the liquor passed your lips, you found that you were worrying less and acting more. The last thing you wanted was to be drunk, so you kept strict moderation on both of your alcohol intake, keeping it at a minimum and making certain that no one was going to black out. Yomo could hold his liquor, but much to your delight, he was loosening up and becoming easier to talk to.

“Heyyyyyy,” You slurred, swinging an arm around his shoulder and putting your lips next to his ear. “Wanna know something?”

He laughed, the deep sound ringing pleasantly in your ears.

“What is it?”

You whispered in his ear, as if it were a top, best kept secret. You expected him to laugh, make fun of you a little, or comment on the fact that you were only saying it because of the alcohol. What you didn’t expect was to be completely naked and bent over his desk, ass in in the air and wrists handcuffed behind you.

“I’ve had enough of your insubordination,” Yomo drawls, pacing back and forth behind you, never touching you. “I think you need to be punished.”

“Pl-Please, Officer, I didn’t mean to –“

“Excuses mean nothing. Do you think it’s fun - disobeying me like this?” Yomo asks, then leans forward to smooth your hair behind your ear. “Do I need to make those handcuffs tighter?”

“No, officer.” You whimper, whining at the uncomfortable feeling between your legs.

“Do you know what happens to people who break the law?” He purrs, and your thighs clamp together at the sound of his voice, dripping with authority. “They get punished.”

You hear the sound of a zipper being undone, and within a matter of seconds, Yomo is pressed up behind you, cock rubbing against your bare ass.

“Please, just do it,” you beg, trying your hardest to rub against him and failing miserably.

“I don’t think I will,” He remarks idly as he lightly strokes your ass. “Criminals don’t deserve to be rewarded, now do they?”

You have never been this turned on in your life. Your legs tremble and you can hardly hold yourself up, and there is an ache between your legs that no one but Yomo can fix. He knows that. He laughs, but the sound isn’t jovial.

“Maybe if you’re a good little prisoner, I’ll let you out on good behavior,” he drawls, licking a stripe up your neck. “Can you do what I say?”

“Y-es,” You strain, sounding utterly pathetic.

“Open your legs.”

You do as he commands, spreading your legs as wide as you can, drunk with anticipation.

“Good,” Yomo murmurs, and begins sliding his cock against your opening, shamelessly rubbing teasing circles and drawing out the most desperate cries from you. “Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes!”

“Are you going take my cock like a good little prisoner?”

“Fuck, fuck yes!”

“Language,” Yomo chides, sliding his cock in at an achingly slow pace. “Now, what was that?”

“Yes, officer!”

“You want me all the way inside you? Do you want me to fuck you until you can’t stand? Hm? Do you think I should fuck you and put you in your fucking place?”

“God, yes, please –“

“The name’s Yomo, but I suppose that’ll do.” He teases, then slams himself all the way inside of you, making your toes curl.

A desperate, drawn out moan leaves your lips and Yomo digs his teeth into your shoulder to keep from breaking composure. He begins moving his hips after allowing you to adjust for a brief moment, setting a fast, rough pace. You don’t care, you revel in the feeling of him inside of you. Your mind goes blank of everything except him, his name and the way he feels. Sweat beads at your neck, and the scent of his cologne and perspiration makes you dizzier than the alcohol ever could.

“Are you going to behave?” He demands, trying to keep himself composed, but you can hear the cracks in his voice. “Are you going to listen like a good little prisoner?”

“Y-Yes!” You moan, hissing at the slight pain from the handcuffs, but too far gone with pleasure to really care.

Yomo trails his tongue down between your shoulder blades as he fucks you relentlessly, a far cry from the usual sweet, gentle sex. You lose yourself in the feeling, cursing yourself for not bringing this up earlier. Your usual sex is nothing short of amazing, but missionary every time, along with few uttered swear words and nothing but the sound of your breath mingling becomes stale. This, this incredibly raw, slightly dirty feeling, is one like you’ve never experienced before, and you’re drowning in it.

You can feel yourself reaching your climax, and Yomo is not far behind. Your cries and moans increase in pitch, and Yomo can sense it with how your muscles are clenching around him. He reaches between the two of you to speed things along, because he’s so close and wants you to come before he does. He likes being the one that can make you unravel completely, voice hoarse with cries of nothing but his name and how amazing he makes you feel.

“Come.” He demands. “Obey your fucking officer.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, and you taste the faint tinge of a metallic substance as you explode around him, milking his cock for all you’re worth. His fingers dig into your hips as he reaches his climax with a low, husky grunt, and he barely catches you before you fall to the ground from your inability to stand or even think straight. He sinks to the ground and pulls you into his lap to wrap his arms around you, your heavy pants comingling as you try to process what just happened.

“So…” You say after a pregnant pause. “That was…”

“Different.” Yomo finishes, resisting the urge to laugh.

“G-Good different?”

“Amazing different. I’m glad you told me.”

“I am, too. Hey, babe?”

“What?”

“Why do you own leopard print handcuffs?”


End file.
